


The Secret in the Attic

by apolesen



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Literary Allusions, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV Outsider, Xavier Institute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 19:33:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apolesen/pseuds/apolesen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mysterious visitor comes to the school every month, the teachers are acting oddly and the professor is breaking his own rules. What is hidden in the west wing of the mansion?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secret in the Attic

Jean had to admit that it was difficult to tell if something odd was going on in the Xavier mansion. After all, its inhabitants were quite peculiar themselves. But there were things stranger than blue-furred science-teachers and telepathic headmasters. One of them was the fourth floor of the west wing. They had all been banned from it, which of course made them all very curious. They often discussed what was so secret about it.

‘Perhaps it’s old family stuff,’ Jean suggested. ‘Diaries and things.’

‘I think the professor has some special lab,’ Scott answered. ‘Or perhaps another Cerebro!’ Ororo thought about it and said:

‘Perhaps it’s haunted.’

‘Haunted?’ Scott said, rolling his eyes. ‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘Once I heard someone moving around there - I heard footsteps,’ she pointed out. Scott shuffled uncomfortably and changed the subject. Jean, however, could not help remembering that Beast and Havoc and Banshee never seemed to go to the west wing, and it could not have been the professor whom Ororo had heard.

Then there was the guest. They had only seen him through the windows, and the hat hid his face from view. After a while, Scott figured out that he turned up the first Sunday of every month, at noon.

‘Who do you think he is?’ Ororo asked.

‘Professor Xavier must have friends outside the school too,’ Scott said, but did not sound completely convinced.

‘We could just ask Beast,’ Jean said reasonably. ‘He’d probably know.’

‘Do you think he’d like that we were spying?’

‘We just happened to see him through the window,’ Scott said quickly. ‘We haven’t been spying.’

Perhaps it had been an accident that they happened to be in the hallway at noon the next first Sunday of the month, but Jean wondered if Scott had made it happen. In the middle of a discussion about whether they should climb the trees or go for a swim, the grandfather clock struck twelve, and just as the last chime faded, a rushing sound was heard from outside, and an odd, tangy smell spread.

‘Was that sulphur?’ Jean asked, but instead of answering, both Ororo and Scott grabbed her by the arm and pulled her under the stairs. Just as she was about to protest, she heard the sound of wheels against the floor. They looked at one another, terror and excitement rising as they pressed together in the small space, where they were hidden from view. As the professor passed, they all held their breath, and then exhaled jointly as he opened the door. There were footsteps, and then silence.

‘It’s good to see you again,’ said an unfamiliar male voice.

‘And you,’ said the professor. Neither of them said anything for a moment. Scott caught Jean’s eyes and put his fingers to his temple, imitating the professor’s mannerism. She shook her head; professor Xavier had taught her that reading someone’s mind without their consent was very rude, and she dared not disobey him, especially when he was right there. Now the guest spoke again.

‘I just wish it could under other circumstances...’

‘We both do,’ Xavier answered softly. ‘But what is there to do?’

‘I wish you weren’t right.’

‘So do I,’ he said gravely. ‘But you know that I am. Despite everything, I think it is for the best. And we have this reason to see each other, after all.’ They started walking.

‘I should not have given you this burden to bear,’ sighed the stranger. His voice was deep but musical, with the hint of a foreign accent.

‘As I have told you so many times, my friend, I am happy to help you carry it. After all, I made a promise.’

‘Have you had any luck? With...?’

‘Nothing,’ said the professor. The children exchanged puzzled looks. ‘You must know, Erik, that when I find them, it’s still going to be difficult...’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘I may have to tell the team.’

‘Don’t.’ The guest’s voice sharpened, and it sounded like a command. ‘This is between you and me.’

‘Yes,’ the professor said. ‘Of course. But on my own, I won’t be able to...’

‘Together we could.’

‘I don’t know if it’d work...’

‘We’ll think of something.’ They stopped, and when Jean leaned forward a little, she could catch a glimpse of them. She still could not see the stranger’s face as he turned to face the professor, who put a hand on his arm.

‘Charles...’ He covered the hand with his own and pressed it. They stood frozen for a moment, and then their hands fell.

‘Come on,’ the professor said. ‘We’d better hurry, so that no-one sees you.’ They left the hall. The children stayed wedged under the stairs until they heard the door to the lift rattle shut. As soon as the coast was clear, Scott extracted himself and offered a hand to each of the girls.

‘You’ve got cobwebs in your hair,’ Ororo said, trying to put on a brave face despite being pale after having fought off a bout of claustrophobia, and started picking the cobwebs out of the other girl’s hair. Desperately hoping there were no spiders, Jean asked:

‘Did it sound to you that it’s a secret that that man was here?’ Scott scratched his chin.

‘Something isn’t right here,’ he murmured. ‘He seemed pretty shady.’

‘Do you think so?’ Ororo said, now working on her own hair. ‘He and the professor sounded like they were friends.’

‘Or had been,’ Jean added. They had seemed rather friendly, but something was off.

Now when they were aware that there was something going on, they noticed detail upon mysterious detail. How come that Beast always cooked too much food, and never seemed to notice it? One day not long after the mysterious visit, Jean found Sean scrubbing the floor of the hall, seeming very happy about it for someone who hated housework.

‘It needed doing,’ he announced and started singing as he continued his chore. Just before he mopped them away, she noticed muddy prints of naked feet on the floor. That entire day, the professor looked exhausted. Jean worried that he was about to been taken ill, while she could not stop thinking about those footprints, which had been too narrow to be a man’s.

Three weeks after they ended up sitting under the stairs, Jean was lying awake, thinking of all the odd things in the house. Ororo was already asleep, curled up under her blankets so that only a shock of white hair was visible. Something was grating on her mind and would not let her sleep - someone in the house must be upset, and it was bleeding through her shields. She closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep. She felt herself grow steadily more heavy, and she was slipping...

‘Jean! Ororo!’ The shout woke her, and she sat up. Alex had burst into their room and was shaking Ororo awake. ‘There’s a fire - we need to get out!’ Ororo rubbed her eyes and got out of bed. Jean had time to step into her slippers before Alex grabbed them and pulled them from the room. ‘Come _on_!’ He did not let go of them until they got to the stairs. Scott and Sean was already half-way down the steps. Alex took his brother by the hand and they rushed out, dressed only in their nightclothes.

‘Where’s Beast?’ asked Ororo as they ran.

‘He’s looking for the professor - he wasn’t in his room,’ Alex explained, trying not to let his worry show. By now, they had reached the lawn, and Jean’s slippers were rapidly getting soaked by the dew. When she looked over her shoulder, she could see the blaze through the windows of the west wing.

‘Ororo!’ she called and grabbed her arm, wheeling her about. ‘Make it rain!’ Ororo’s eyes went white - the clouds gathered. Her pointed finger guided them, and the west wing was engulfed by a sudden deluge. It lasted a minute, and then it slowed to a drizzle and Ororo stumbled. Jean propped her up as they looked to where the mansion. Through the darkness it was difficult to see anything, but there were no longer any flames to be seen.

‘Stay here,’ Sean said, swallowing audibly. ‘I’ll go closer and check.’

He was only halfway to the mansion when the doors burst open and the Beast bounded out. They stopped and spoke, and then Sean turned and waved at the others to come closer. When they came closer, they saw that he had gone very pale.

‘Ororo seems to have put out the fire,’ he explained, voice thin. He tried to continue, but then turned to Beast, who drew a steadying breath, and spoke.

‘I couldn’t find the professor.’

Scott, Jean and Ororo found themselves being ushered towards the stairs, while the adults split up to search the house again.

‘Do they expect us to go to sleep when the professor might be dead?’ Scott said indignantly. ‘I’m going to help!’ Jean only just managed to catch him by the wrist. He tried to tug it loose, but she held him in place with her telekinesis.

‘Let’s go sit in the TV room and wait.’ Scott’s shoulders slumped, but he gave in and followed the girls.

They sat in the quiet, dark room for what felt like hours, not speaking. Jean was trying to imagine what would happen to them all if the professor was dead, but she could not really picture it. Somehow, she was convinced that he could not be. Still, when they heard the professor’s voice in the corridor, her heart leapt. She felt the relief roll off the others, and through the darkness they shared a look. Then they froze again, listening to the conversation outside.

‘Professor, you need to tell me the truth.’ Beast.

‘There is nothing more to tell.’ The professor sounded so calm that there had to be anger hidden under the tranquility.

‘But I know there is! What were you doing _there_?’ Jean’s curiosity got the better of her. Concentrating, she found Hank’s mind and slipped into it.

_A charred corridor of the west wing. The sound of the wheelchair. The professor, hair singed and dressing-gown dark with soot, emerging from a room, his eyes lingering on something._

‘Professor, tell me,’ he said forcefully. ‘I’ve noticed - something is going on in this house, and the west wing is at the centre of it. What are you keeping there?’

_Nothingness._

Jean’s eyes snapped open, and she only just managed to quench a scream. Scott grabbed her shoulder, his hidden eyes fixed on her.

‘What happened?’ he mouthed. Still shaking, she put a finger to her lips, and he nodded. When Hank spoke again, his anger and urgency was gone, and replaced with cheerful relief.

‘I’m so glad we found you, professor!’ he said. ‘Imagine, who’d have thought that a broken electrical socket could have caused that...’

‘No harm done,’ Xavier said kindly. ‘Good night.’

‘Good night, professor.’ They heard how they went their separate ways. When silence fell again, both Scott and Ororo edged closer to Jean.

‘What happened?’ Scott asked. Jean swallowed. This could not be true - it must not be true...

‘The professor was in the west wing, on the fourth floor, during the fire,’ she explained breathlessly. ‘That was where the fire was. Beast found him there. He reckons that whatever’s the reason why we’re not allowed to go there was what caused the fire. But...’ She broke off, not wanting to face it.

‘Jean, go on,’ Ororo urged her.

‘Professor Xavier manipulated Beast’s mind. He took away all the suspicion.’ Scott and Ororo stared at her.

‘The professor wouldn’t do something like that!’ Scott said at last.

‘I _felt_ the memories disappear,’ Jean answered tartly. ‘He did it, alright.’

‘But...’ Ororo said, looking lost. ‘We trusted him. He’s taught us to use our powers...’

‘He’d never abuse his powers,’ Scott added.

‘Then he must have good reason to mess with Hank’s mind,’ Jean supplied. ‘Come to think about it... I think he’s manipulated Sean as well.’

‘Do you think he’s manipulated us?’ Scott asked, looking terrified at this new aspect of their teacher. Jean thought about it.

‘We wouldn’t know if he had,’ Ororo pointed out.

‘But it seems like what he’s trying to keep people from noticing is whatever is going on in the west wing,’ Jean said, ‘and we’re aware that there is something going on. If he had changed the furniture around in our heads, he would have made sure that we wouldn’t have noticed.’

They were quite for a moment, and then Scott voiced everyone’s thought.

‘But what could be so important?’

Jean made a mental list; something which could start a fire, perhaps something which was connected to the muddy footprints and the professor’s exhaustion and the extra food and the strange guest.

‘More importantly,’ she said, ‘do we tell Beast?’

***

It turned out to be a question which was more difficult to answer than they had first thought. The following Sunday, they had still not done anything, but knowing something like that when no-one else did took the fun out of the weekend.

Finally, Jean had had enough.

‘Come on,’ she said and got to her feet. ‘Let’s do it, before the professor finds out we know and makes us forget about it as well.’ The others stood as well, but Scott muttered:

‘We’re going to regret this...’ He was the one most opposed to interfering, still not quite able to accept the implicit betrayal the professor was guilty of.

‘We should have done it days ago,’ Ororo just answered, glad that it had been Jean who had made the final decision. She had the evidence, after all.

They found Hank in his lab, peering through a microscope and humming Gilbert and Sullivan to himself.

‘Beast...’

‘Hm?’ Hank picked up a sample from the table with his foot. ‘I’m in the middle of something, Jean.’

‘It’s important,’ Jean said. However much she tried, she could not keep her voice steady.

‘Just give me a moment,’ he murmured and made a note of his results.

‘It can’t wait,’ she said and stepped forward. With as sigh he put down both sample and pen and turned to face her.

‘Alright, what’s up?’ For a moment, she wondered if this was a mistake after all, but she braced herself and said it.

‘The professor’s been manipulating your mind.’ Hank stared at her.

‘Jean!’ he exclaimed finally. ‘That’s a serious allegation, you know. The professor won’t be pleased...’

‘It’s the truth,’ she insisted. ‘The fire wasn’t because of a broken socket.’ He chuckled.

‘It was, Jean,’ he said. ‘I saw it myself.’

‘The professor made you think you saw it,’ Jean said. She felt a childish urge to stamp her foot, but did not do it. ‘I heard you talking just after the fire. You found him in the west wing, where the fire broke out. There’s some kind of secret there, and I think he’s keeping you all from figuring out what it is by manipulating your memories.’ As she spoke, Hank’s lighthearted expression had darkened. Now he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

‘Are you sure that was what happened, Jean?’ She nodded, thinking that if she spoke again, she might start crying. Scott stepped up.

‘She felt it happen.’ Hank’s eyes darkened, and his jaw tensed. His whole face grew much more beast-like.

‘Do you know... what it is?’

‘He’s hiding something,’ Ororo said with a shrug. ‘Or perhaps... someone.’

‘Someone else is living in the mansion?’ Hank almost roared. The children drew back in terror. Beast composed himself, clearing his throat. ‘Sorry. But... is that what you’re saying?’ They all nodded. Jean, feeling a little steadier, decided to speak.

‘We think that it may have something to do with the man who comes to see the professor.’

‘What man?’ Hank said, perplexed. ‘The professor hasn’t had visitors for years.’

‘He’s probably made sure you don’t notice,’ Ororo said. ‘He comes every month.’

‘It’s the first Sunday of the month today - he should be here any minute,’ Scott added, sounding alarmed. Hank’s hand closed to a fist, and he let out his breath slowly to keep his calm.

‘What does he look like?’

‘I haven’t seen his face,’ Jean said, ‘but he’s tall and wears a hat and coat, and speaks with an accent.’ Hank looked like he was ready to upend his workbench.

‘Right,’ he said, sounding more composed than he looked. ‘I think we’d better...’ He rose, his body trembling with rage. Somehow, he managed to keep it inside as he left the lab. The students looked at each other and then ran after him, hearing his heavy footsteps as he lumbered through the mansion.

‘Professor Xavier! _Professor!_ ’ They followed his shouts and caught up with him just when he reached the entrance hall. Professor Xavier was at the door, and looked up in surprise at the commotion. ‘Is it true?’ Hank growled. ‘Have you been in my mind?’ The professor breathed in and raised his chin, as if bracing himself.

‘Hank, you don’t understand,’ he said calmly.

‘How many times?’ The growl turned into a roar, and he put his paws on each of the armrests to lean over him menacingly. Jean reached for Scott’s hand; it closed around hers. ‘What are you hiding, professor?’ Hank asked. ‘What is so important...?’ The professor did not turn away his gaze, or seem swayed by the menacing mutant leaning over him. ‘Have I asked before?’ Hank continued. ‘Have the others? Well?’

‘Beast, don’t hurt him!’ Ororo called, not able to keep quite any longer.

‘He’s not helpless!’ Hank snarled, glaring at the professor. ‘He’s stronger than any of us, and more dangerous on top of it..’

‘Believe me, Hank, I had no choice,’ the professor said levelly.

‘Did you try to _explain_ that to us?’ Hank shouted. ‘Did we talk it through, before you made us forget it? It’s still your house, but whatever you’re keeping from us, it’s dangerous, and I think I know who else is involved...’

The door-handle suddenly turned, but the door was stopped by the wheelchair. The professor looked through the small opening and gave a sigh with relief.

‘Unhand him, Beast,’ a deep voice from outside said. ‘I don’t think you would like the consequences if you didn’t.’ Beast growled at the man on the other side of the door.

‘Hank, he’s right,’ Xavier said patiently. ‘Please let go, so that we can let Erik in.’ Hank stayed where he was for another moment, and then stepped back reluctantly. The professor moved and the door opened. The man they had only caught glimpses of before stepped in and removed his hat. He had a face which inspired fear as well as respect, and Jean felt suddenly afraid when he surveyed the congregation in the entrance-hall.

‘It seems like we’ve been found out,’ the professor said, feigning lightheartedness.

‘Are you in this together?’ Hank asked, looking from one to the other. ‘You’ve been letting him into the house...?’

Ororo caught Jean’s eye and raised her eyebrows questioningly. Jean shook her head to show her ignorance of the man’s identity, and Scott shrugged. As if realising that the students were not following, Hank turned to them and pointed at the newcomer.

‘Do you know who this is?’ The children shook their heads. ‘ _That_ is Magneto. He’s been working against us ever since the X-Men were founded.’

‘Not quite ever since,’ the professor corrected with a sigh. That did little to calm the students. They had heard the name, both from their teachers and on the news, and Jean had imagined him as a monster. Even if this man was intimidating, he did not seem like that.

Now Hank turned again to the professor.

‘Does this mean that your being the good shepherd, leading us, fighting for the just cause... that’s all a charade? Who are we working for?’ For the first time since the confrontation started, the professor hesitated. Slowly, he looked away and bit his lip.

‘Mine and Erik’s cooperation has been solely of a... personal nature. It has had nothing to do with the Brotherhood, or the X-Men.’

‘“Personal”?’ Hank said, sounding choked all of a sudden. Jean looked at Ororo, who seemed to understand as little as she did. When she looked back, Magneto had stepped closer to the wheelchair, and an unspoken conversation seemed to pass between them. Finally, the professor reached up and squeezed the other man’s arm.

‘I think we should tell them,’ he said. Magneto shook his head.

‘No.’ He looked at them all and announced: ‘Let’s show them.’ There was a moment’s hesitation, then the professor nodded.

‘Hank, get Sean and Alex. Meet us in the west wing, on the fourth floor, all of you. Erik, come with me - we need to talk. This month has been bad.’

It took less time to find the others than to get from the entrance-hall to the west wing. Jean exchanged worried looks with Ororo as they descended the last set of stairs. She was still holding hands with Scott, his fingers closing around hers as if from cramp. It hurt a little, but it was comforting. When they entered the right corridor, Jean recognised it as the place where Hank had found the professor after the fire. The walls were blackened, but the structure seemed intact. From the opposite direction, where the lift was, came the professor and Magneto, side by side.

‘Is anyone going to tell us what’s going on?’ Alex asked as Xavier stopped at a door and took out a set of keys.

‘Come closer,’ he told them and started unlocking the door, which had not one but three locks. As they approached and crowded around the door, Magneto gave him a questioning look. He answered it in words. ‘There’s nothing to worry about - she’s calm.’ The last lock mechanism clicked, and the door opened.

What had she expected? Jean had not known, not it was not this. It was a completely normal room, where only the burnt patches on the wallpaper and the charred bedpost witnessed that something out of the ordinary had happened here.

The occupant of the room was sitting on the window-sill, hugging her knees. In years, she was a woman, but the pose made her look girlish. Jean could see that once, before her arms had grown so thin and her eyes had gone blank, she must have been very beautiful. She was only dressed in a nightgown, which left the scarred dark skin of her arms exposed. As she looked out of the window, through the veil curtain which hid her from view, she hummed to herself and pulled at a lock of hair, which straightened and then curled again when she let it go. Over and over again she tugged it and released it, oblivious of being watched.

The professor spoke.

‘Magda, look who’s come to see you.’ He entered the room carefully, and Magneto followed. Reluctant to miss anything, Jean stepped in as well, dragging Scott with her, as the others filled up the doorway. Magneto took a step forward.

‘Magda.’ Now she looked their way, and her placid face was distorted by a scream. She seemed to go from woman to animal as she launched herself from the window-sill and launched herself towards him. Jean watched in horror as she beat her fists against his chest and scratched his face, all the time screaming incoherently. ‘Magda!’ he called and got hold of one of her wrists. ‘ _Ich bin’s, Magda - kennst du mich nicht? Ich bin doch Erik_...’ She stopped screaming, and instead spat him in the face. With his free hand, he wiped the gob from his cheek.

‘Do you need help, Erik?’ the professor asked.

‘No,’ Magneto answered and suddenly, his cufflink unclipped itself and placed itself in his pocket. Even as she thrashed in his grip, he started pushing up his sleeve.

‘ _Magda, guck mal_ ,’ he urged her. ‘ _Erinnerst du dich jetzt an mich?_ ’ He turned his arm, not letting go of her. She looked down and the animal rage melted. Instead, she laughed and she drew her fingernails down his forearm in fascination. Then she put her left arm against his. Carefully, Jean edged forward and saw what had captivated the woman so. Each arm had a row of numbers crudely tattooed into the flesh. In front of hers were three strokes which she realised after a moment formed a Z.

The woman laughed once again and then went up on tiptoes and forced their lips together. He closed his eyes, not to enjoy the kiss but to bear it. Nevertheless, when she broke it and pressed against him, he put his arms around her and turned to the others. For a moment, he seemed lost in contemplation of her, as he pushed his fingers into her thick hair and she started humming again. When he looked up at them, his eyes looked vulnerable in a way which Jean thought looked wrong in his face.

‘This is Magda,’ he explained. ‘My wife.’

Shocked silence followed.

‘You? Married?’ Sean said finally.

‘Magneto’s wife lives in the mansion with us?’ Hank asked, looking disgusted. ‘Professor...’ Xavier clasped his hands, looking reserved. ‘Since then?’

‘She moved in as soon as I was well enough to take care of her,’ he said finally.

‘But that must be years ago,’ Alex exclaimed. Jean looked from her teachers to Magneto, who was rocking his wife in his arms. His hardened tenderness made her chest hurt; on the one hand so heartfelt, but on the other merely a habit. Still not letting go of her, he lead her into the room and sat down with her on the wide window-sill. Magda moved closer to rest her head in the crook of his neck and take his hand.

‘How have you kept it a secret for so long?’ Hank asked aghast. Charles looked away with a sigh.

‘I have used my psychic powers to keep any suspicions you had in check,’ he admitted. ‘I could not jeopardise her safety.’

‘And Magneto has been coming to visit her every month for all that time?’ Hank continued.

‘To visit his wife, yes,’ the professor said, almost, Jean thought, defensively.

‘It must be hard to take time out of your busy terrorism schedule, Magneto,’ Alex said acidly. It was not Magneto but Xavier who answered.

‘Show a little respect,’ he all but snapped. ‘Can’t you see how ill she is?’ Jean looked at the couple at the window again, as Magda traced the veins on her husband’s arm and then sunk her fingers into his skin. Magneto gave a grunt of pain and prised away her hand.

‘You’ve let her fingernails grow too long, Charles,’ he said to the professor. ‘She’ll hurt herself.’

‘Yes - I’m sorry,’ he sighed. ‘I suppose that the fact that she tried to burn down the mansion felt a little more pressing.’

‘So...’ Sean said slowly. ‘Is that her power? Fire?’ Magneto looked at him as if he did not understand. ‘I mean, is she, eum, pyrokinetic?’

‘Magda has no powers,’ he said. ‘She is human.’ Sean looked at Alex, who looked at Hank, who looked at Magneto.

‘You married a human?’ he said, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. ‘But... you’re a mutant supremacist. Why?’ Magneto closed his eyes and leaned his cheek against Magda’s hair. Jean felt a spike of pity for the man.

‘I think they deserve an explanation,’ the professor said carefully. Magneto looked up again, resigned.

‘Yes, I guess they do.’ He watched the woman in his arms, who was still humming to herself, and even if Jean could not see his memories, she sensed how he gathered them all for the retelling. His pain and guilt and sorrow was written on his face, visible to them all. She was glad Scott was still holding her hand, and as Magneto started his story, she pressed it for reassurance.

‘I met Magda in Auschwitz. She too was subjected to medical experiments, but unlike me, it was not because of any abilities she had. To them, she, as so many other Gypsy children, were simply bodies which could serve the furthering of Aryan science. I expect that what they did to her was crueller than what they did to me - Doctor Schmidt was never merciful, but at least he wanted me alive. Magda never spoke of what the doctors did to her.

‘One of the first things I learnt in that place was that those who had nothing to live for died. I had already decided that I was going to avenge my mother by killing Schmidt, and that decision kept me alive. But Magda had nothing - no one.’ He paused and took her hand. ‘I made her take me as her reason to live. She accepted it.’

‘You... fell in love?’ Hank asked. The anger was gone from his voice now, replaced with the wish to understand. Magneto looked up at him, eyes dark.

‘I do not think that anyone who has been in such a place is able to love.’

‘You are able to love, Erik,’ the professor said earnestly. ‘I have felt it in you.’ Magneto sighed and instead answered Hank’s question.

‘I didn’t do it out of love, Beast, not precisely. How could I let her die, when I was able to save her? Perhaps I did it to redeem myself. We were only children, and yet God had turned away from us and left us in a place that seemed beyond the cruelty of men. In the middle of all that... I could not let her die.’ Even as her sharp fingernails rasped against the skin on his hand, he hugged her closer. ‘We stayed alive - the Germans fled, and the Red Army liberated the camp. We were both so weak, but we survived. We grew close. Yes, there was a connection... but I think that we were too reduced to primal needs for it to be love. It did not serve just her - it kept me alive too. When I caught typhus, it was not just the thought of killing Schmidt which forced me not to die, but knowing that if I gave in, I would condemn her to death.

‘Once we were free again, I was eager to set about on my revenge. I recovered quickly - Magda did not. Already then, in the early years after the war, I noticed that something was wrong with her. I don’t know if it was what she saw in Auschwitz or the things the Nazi doctors had done to her, but something was making her lose her mind. As soon as we could, we married. I suppose I did it as a show of trust. I had my own objectives, and I never wished for a married life, but it was a way of showing her that I would always come back from my travels. The state gave back my parents’ money which had been confiscated, and what I did not spend on my plans, I spent on treatments for her. As soon as my revenge was underway, money was no longer an issue. But none of it helped. Every time I came to see her, she was worse. There was no way to tell how she would react to anything. She would have days where she would be well and act like a happier version of the girl I had grown so close to, but they grew fewer and fewer. Some days she was violent, towards others and towards herself. Other days she would not do anything, only stare - not even cry. She started forgetting things, she talked to herself. Sometimes she seemed to think she was a little girl, and sometimes she was... lecherous, and lost all sense of decency. I suppose it was during one of those episodes, to the astonishment of her doctors, she became pregnant.

‘Despite my... reservations, it made me hopeful. It seemed to make her better. I stayed with her, reminding myself that I was her anchor, even if she was not mine. I hoped that this would finally balance her mind. Perhaps not just being cared for, but having someone else to care for was what she needed.

‘What happened next was my fault. We lived in a small town in Transia, in the Soviet Union. I had chosen it because it seemed like the last place a Nazi war criminal would turn up. I was wrong. I remember it was a day in March, a beautiful day, and we went out for a walk. It made me almost feel ordinary - for once, I was simply a man out walking with his beautiful wife. And then...’ He paused. ‘There was a man in the street. I recognised him - I knew his face. He had been one of the guards who had guarded the hut they kept us in between experiments. They were all cruel, but he was cruellest. He saw us as worse than vermin. So I killed him - I strangled him, then and there, with his own watch chain. I was so consumed with hate that I completely forgot about Magda.

‘I killed a man in front of my pregnant wife, and it drove her insane - it tipped the scales. I still remember how she screamed, “monster!” at me, before she became incoherent. I could see, just before she broke, how to her, I was suddenly as bad as those who had tortured us. She retreated into a fantasy, apparently thinking she was back in Auschwitz. She was so terrified of me that _that_ place made her feel safe. There was no other way than to commit her. I could not bear to see her like that, so I left. When I came back, months later, I was told that she had given birth to twins. They had been left to an orphanage, but they would not tell me more. I couldn’t find them. I decided to move Magda from Transia, and took her with me to France, where I found a hospital where they took good care of her. I left her there. When I was close, I would visit, but there was little point. She did not recognise me anymore - she still does not. It seems like it is only this-’ he pointed to the number on his forearm ‘-which makes her realise that I am her husband, not one of her tormentors. Very little of my wife remained. To all intents and purposes, I had failed what I had sought to achieve.

‘And then... I met Charles.’ Even if it was brief, Jean did not miss the smile on his face. ‘When I told him about Magda, he said, “I can help”.’ He looked up and caught the professor’s eye for a moment. ‘The world’s most powerful telepath - if anyone could help my wife, it was him. But... things did not go quite according to plan.’

‘You can say that again,’ Sean muttered. This was a part of the story of the founding of the school that Jean did not know, but she knew that something dramatic had happened, enough so to split the original team in two.

‘How did she end up here after all?’ Hank asked.

‘Months after... after... the _incident_ on Cuba,’ Magneto explained, his voice straining in a way it had not before, ‘Charles contacted me through Emma Frost, letting me know that the offer still stood. Considering the circumstances, I was surprised, but... grateful.’ They looked at each other again, and the professor smiled, warmer than Jean could remember him ever smiling. ‘So I moved her, and we installed her here. She’s been here ever since.’ To mark the end of his story, he pressed a kiss onto Magda’s forehead, his eyes shut tight, as though forcing back tears. His retelling had made Jean uncomfortable, as had the emotions she felt pressed under the surface. The silence was growing oppressive, so she asked:

‘Has she gotten any better?’ The professor turned to face her, and smiled sadly.

‘She has no chance for recovery, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘The damage runs too deep. All we can do is to keep her calm and as comfortable as possible.’

‘Sorry to be blunt, but can’t she be made comfortable anywhere?’ Alex said. ‘I mean, why does she have to be in the mansion?’ Magneto gnashed his teeth.

‘Have you ever been inside a mental hospital, Havoc?’ he asked, anger barely restrained. ‘She suffered enough as a child. I am not leaving her somewhere which is little better than a prison.’ He watched his wife as she raised her head and said something in German, licking her lips. He did not answer, but stroked her cheek, his eyes filling with sorrow. ‘Besides, Charles’ telepathy has made her easier to handle. She fares better here than anywhere else.’

‘I see no problem with keeping Magda here,’ the professor said.

‘But enough so that you made us forget about it,’ Hank interjected.

‘Because I knew that this would be your reaction,’ he answered sharply. ‘Do you honestly think that I have the time and inclination to argue every day about a severely ill woman’s right to be in the only place where she can find some semblance of peace, which you are obviously opposed to, and her husband’s right to see her?’ Jean thought suddenly that he looked very tired, like he had that day when there had been foot-prints in the hall (which must have been Magda’s - she must have broken out). Taking care of Magda must exhaust him. However much what the professor had done upset her, because it went against everything he had taught her, she could understand now how he would rather take that option.

‘She’s dangerous,’ Hank pointed out. ‘You said it yourself, she tried to burn down the mansion.’

‘That was my fault,’ Xavier sighed. ‘I am always present in her mind, to make sure that she does not do anything like that, but that night, I must have grown lax. I didn’t realise that she’d picked my matches out of my pocket. As soon as I realised what was happening, I went to her, and took full control of her mind, to make her put out the fire.’ He glanced over at his students and smiled briefly. ‘Ororo’s rainfall took us quite by surprise. As you see, the damage was not that bad. The next room on this floor is worse, but there was no real danger.’ It was obvious that the others wanted to disagree, but knew that it would serve no purpose.

‘Has this happened before?’ Hank asked. ‘Have we seen her before?’ The professor shook his head.

‘You, Alex, caught a brief glimpse of her when she first came here - you wouldn’t remember. But no, this has not happened before.’ Then he pulled himself up and said ominously: ‘Of course, if you still disagree with my actions, it will never have happened.’

‘Professor,’ Jean said, speaking up. ‘How come you didn’t make us forget?’ When he turned to her, his gaze softened, and a hint of a smile could be seen.

‘I ask myself that too,’ he admitted. ‘I knew that you had noticed something, of course, but I thought that you would not do anything about it. Besides... it felt wrong.’ Jean did not know how to be flattered or scared by the fact that he would readily manipulate their teachers’ minds but not theirs. The professor turned back to Hank, Sean and Alex. ‘It is my duty to help those who need it. If I can help Magda - if I can help Erik - then I will.’

‘Why are you still calling him Erik?’ Sean asked. ‘He’s Magneto now.’ Xavier ignored the comment.

‘I have been trying find Erik’s children for him as well,’ he explained, glancing back at him. Magneto gave a curt nod, telling him to go ahead. ‘This far, I have had no success, but it is only a matter of time. When I do find them, I will need your help to bring them here.’

‘How is Magneto going to take care of a pair of kids?’ Alex asked. ‘Even if the two of you are pals - which makes no sense - you can’t have forgotten what he _does_. None of this changes the fact that he’s a terrorist.’

‘I will not take care of them,’ Magneto said gravely. ‘They will stay here.’

‘Since when did we become a hotel?’ Sean exclaimed.

‘Wanda and Pietro will live here as students,’ the professor said pointedly. ‘With Erik as their father, they’re most certainly mutants.’

‘Oh,’ Hank said. There seemed to be little he could do to argue with that.

‘I pity those poor children.’ Magneto sighed. He had startled cradling Magda, who looked almost asleep. ‘It would have been bad enough to have us as parents simply because of what we had suffered, but now... they’re the children of a madwoman and a monster. What will they grow up to be?’ The professor drew a little closer.

‘I will take good care of them,’ he said solemnly. ‘I have given you my word.’

‘I know you will,’ Magneto answered. ‘You always think the best of people - I envy you that.’ Xavier dipped his head, which Jean had never seen him do before. It made him look almost shy.

‘The best in people is plain as day to me,’ he said. His voice had grown soft and oddly tender, as if there was only the two of them in the room. ‘And whatever you say, Erik, I see the best of you, very clearly.’ He shook his head.

‘You’re deluded, Charles,’ he said bitterly. ‘Look at Magda - I caused this. This is what happens to those I try to love - I drive them insane, I tear them limb from limb. All I know is how to destroy, even...’ His voice broke.

‘My friend, you know that is not true,’ the professor said softly and reached out to touch his hand. ‘Despite everything, that is not true.’ Magneto shook his head. The professor’s hand fell. ‘We’ll give you two a moment together.’ His tone had gone formal again, but sounded strained.

‘Some time alone with my sins,’ Magneto said and smiled bitterly. Now Magda stirred and gave a whimper.

‘It’s agitated her, with so much people in her room,’ Xavier observed.

‘I’ll put her to bed,’ Magneto answered, his arm protectively around her shoulders. ‘And I’ll cut her fingernails. There’s a pair of scissors in the locked drawer, isn’t there?’ The professor nodded and retreated. As she was ushered out of the room, Scott dragging her by the hand, Jean looked back to see the mutant terrorist she had learned to fear support his wife as she stood. Imagining this grim man putting his wife to bed and tending her was somehow easier than picturing him wrecking destruction in a densely populated city. Imagining the professor as his opponent was harder than imagining him as his friend. As Xavier lingered in the doorway and Magneto watched him, suddenly oblivious of the woman in his arms, she wondered what had passed between them to make them so close and yet so distant.

‘I’ll be in my study,’ the professor said finally. ‘Drop in before you leave.’ Magneto nodded, tight-lipped but grateful. Then they both looked away, and Xavier wheeled himself out and closed the door. When he noticed Jean watching him, he smiled at her briefly and then turned away to the lift.

‘Jean?’ Scott said and nudged her. ‘Let’s go. This place is spooky.’ Reluctantly, she shook off her thoughts and followed him towards the stairs, knowing that she would no longer see the house, the antagonism with the Brotherhood or the professor in the the same light.


End file.
